The Crimson Summit
by Binkari
Summary: The freshly snowed path of Arreat is infringed with the blood of innocents and fallen heroes, will the sorceress and barbarian join the ranks of the dead?
1. Foot of the Mountain: Revival

====Diablo 2 and Lord of Destruction (and all character classes) do not belong to me.====  
  
"I still remember that day, the time in which I broke the void between Heaven and Hell, linked the human world to that of the netherworld. The fresh imprint of the sun's glare upon my cheeks and blood-scorn face as I emerged from that god-forsaken cathedral. Lazarus, the traitor; Diablo, the Lord of Terror; none of held meaning anymore. I had forded through the rivers of Hell itself, and who is to say that I would not do it again?  
  
"The action still haunts me. Something, someone, told me to take that crystal shard and plunge it deep into my head. Fool, I was such a fool to do so. I should have known that no man's will could handle such a daunting task. But I was blinded; my eyes stung with an ever-increasing pride of having defeat the Lord of Terror in a single bout. Aye, that pride was so great, it pulsed in my heart and drove itself into my mind. It was just that that left me open to the final onslaught of Diablo's true power. He willed me to do it.  
  
"I held the glimmering crystal before me. Its crimson luster seemed to reflect the countless rivers of blood that were produced in the village of Tristram, the small town that I had saved. 'Twas captivating. No mortal could have resisted its gleam and brilliant, yet corrupted, beauty. The shrap tip bit into my cranium, but I strove forward until the entire shard was embedded into my forehead. Miracously, it seemed as if the wound has healed itself in a matter of moments. Removing my worn and tattered gloves, I reached up and brushed two fingers along the scar. No blood was present. It amazed me, yet also held no value to me. At that time, I thought I had conquered what no man could have done.   
  
"The roar of the people was deafening. They were celebrating my return, but more the 'defeat' of the terrible demon lord. Countless pairs of eyes were upon me, but one held a gaze so strong, it burned my flesh. Turning to look, I saw him. That elder Horadrim, what did he want? Behind those folds of skin were eyes that reflected wisdom beyond comparison. He knew something, yes, he knew what was to become of me. Yet he hid it all in a feigned smile. I knew it, he knew it. This was not the last of Diablo.  
  
"Words could not describe the grotesque features I saw in that abadoned ruin. The stench of evil was toxic. King Leoric, the succubi, those infernal Blood Knights. None held a candle to what was to come.   
  
"A depression was boring its way into my soul, consuming it. There I sat on the outer rim of the small estate the village had granted me, but I did not care. Not one bit of it mattered. In a way, I knew the destruction of Tristram was near. My thoughts were interrupted by the kind soul of Griswold. Oh, Griswold, you dillusional fool. You forge weapons meant to sanctify the world, yet they will only be used for the better of evil.   
  
"I saw that little boy Wirt hobble by on his peg leg. Shame that he escaped the cathedral only to face death once more. Except, this time, he would not make it through. No, God had forsaken me the minute I stepped over that threshold. When He saw that scar upon my head, He turned away from me. I was alone, or at least I wished I was.  
  
"It was an absolutely unnecessary celebration. They should have run while they had the chance. Instead, I would have to take the evil far away from them, if only I did not leave a trail of terror behind me. It was night, the moon was basking the village in its ghostly day, I looked up at it until a pounding agony was produced in my head. It was escaping. Leaking into my body, mind, and soul. I heard myself babble ancient languages. It held no meaning, yet at the same time, I understood the mindless jabber clearly. Deckard Cain's voice was faint. I looked up to see a panicked expression wash across his face. He stumbled back, then offered to help me.   
  
"I laughed, and what a horrendous guffaw that was. Imbucile, could he not see what I had become? This is your terror, Tristram. Now that Diablo had found a host, he would take over slowly. He would usurp my body; I had to get out.  
  
"The next morning, I fled. Ran without a goal, without a purpose, just needed to get away from that doomed town. I had to get away from it all...  
  
"I am coming, my brothers."  
  
"So, that's how it started," a low voice trembled in the biting freeze of the tent.  
  
Tirzah shook her head, "It was a great shame, he went all that way for nothing."  
  
The sorceress stood up and proceeded to take a wool blanket from a large, oaken chest. Her umber eyes flashed around the tent, its occupants all shivered in winter's maw. They had been in Harrogath for nary a week, but the mountain's environ was already befalling them.   
  
"We will have to get moving sometime, the final evil is growing stronger as we speak," the voice replied.   
  
She looked to the originator, a hefty barbarian. He had told her that he went by the name of Lapidoth. Tirzah had thought it to be an odd name from the start, but much to her surprise, the barbarian countered with a comment of her own name. A smile played across her lips as she thought of what had happened before. How they had met in the Rogue's Encampment and joined up with an Amazon and Assasin pair. Later, in Kurast, they had expanded their ranks with a Necromancer (which Lapidoth seemed thoroughly afraid of) and a Paladin. 'An odd pair, they were,' Tirzah thought. Suddenly, she remembered what time frame she was in, "Well then, let us get going."  
  
Lapidoth smirked and got up. His well-muscled chest was a somewhat pleasing sight to Tirzah, but she made no show of it. Promptly, he tossed on his armor. It seemed so easy for him, the large gothic plate was slipped on as if it were a simply tailored woolen shirt. The sorceress, on the other hand, wore light armor, which was very much sufficient considering that her main defense (and offense) was her magic.   
  
The couple made their way to the town's gate. The head iron grating was an imposing sight, but both knew that it was not enough to keep the demons back. Lapidoth nodded to the gatekeeper who lifted the giant structure obediantly. Stepping out, the loud boom and following tremor caused Tirzah to turn around. The gate had fallen into its place once more and left them with only one way to go now. 


	2. Beyond the Gate: Remembrance

====Same disclaimer, Diablo 2 and Lord of Destruction all belong to Blizzard entertainment====  
  
"What are you waiting for, Tirzah? Get moving!" Lapidoth called, halfway up a flight of stairs.   
  
The young sorceress looked up, then realized just how cold it really was. Icy winds bit into the exposed flesh of her legs, while the padding below her armor was barely enough to keep her warm. Lapidoth was unrelenting as he purged his way up the mountain path, seemingly unphased by the impending cold; a tusk sword in each hand. Yea, the blades had become bloodied over the past from the slaugther of the Prime Evils and their minions. He held the weapons with pride, the one grasped in his right hand obtained from Charsi when he and she had recovered the malus; enchanted with the most powerful Horadrim magics. The sword in his left gathered from the flailing corpse of Diablo himself.   
  
Tirzah clutched her staff tightly, the faded feathers bound tightly to the top as the wind hissed at the binding. Her eyes narrowed as she moved forward with Lapidoth, trailing along his heels. This procedure seemed all too familiar, Lapidoth raging through a maelstorm of evils, while she acted like the coward and threw appropriated fireballs into the madness.   
  
It was not much a surprise to either of the adventurers when a group of monsters marched their way to the intruders. Their pelts were knotted and stiff with knobs of horn. Each clutched a sword in their demoinc hands, wooden buckler wrapped unto its opposing forearm. They were of a revolting green-yellow color, every one more disgusting after the next.   
  
Lapidoth's brow did not even raise at the sight of them, as if he had been one of the many barbarian warriors who had made a living out of this type of slaughter. He swung his sword about, severing bodies and limbs, decapitating another. Tirzah stood a distance from the wave of creatures, a well-placed firewall incinerating the lot. The crowd thinned until only a remaining few were left standing. The barbarian finished them off quickly and motioned Tirzah to follow once more.  
  
A bit exhausted, Tirzah lagged behind, hardly able to keep up with the Lapidoth's pace. He made his way up the footpath, slashing down anything that was of an intrusion. Every step was monotonous. Every time the same thing happened: Lapidoth took the brunt of the throngs of creatures while Tirzah knocked them away or shattered them with her magicks.  
  
Suddenly, a huge mass of demons and their breathen charged the pair. It happened very quickly indeed, Tirzah only able to catch a glimpse of a larger figure, ebone of pelt, looming over the army. It gripped a thick whip in its hand, digits circling the weapon while it whipped the monstrous soldiers into a frenzy. Not to mention its belly was enormous, bloated and leather-bound.  
  
It wasn't long before the two were encompassed in a herd of savage beasts. Instinctively, Tirzah teleported to safety, only to find, in a panicked state, Lapidoth fiercely fending off the enemies. She saw the flash of his sword come down on numerous heathens, a small fountain of blood following. Drawing her arms into the air, staff in hand, she hurled a frozen orb into the group. The murderous ice bolts, combined with already freezing weather doubled its potency, piercing the thick hides and immobilizing the monsters. Acting quickly, Lapidoth shattered them.  
  
With the tide was turned, Lapidoth's fighting was more of a flaunting session than a battle. He took time to concentrate on the style of his moves instead of the power. Tirzah rolled her eyes, "Vanity, thy name is Lapidoth."  
  
He thoughts were soon broken as she saw an enormous explosion, various appendages flying in the air and the groan of Lapidoth. Luckily, the airborne limbs were of a demonic owner. She cried out his name to no avail. A few agonizing moments later, a soft grunt rang through the air. Lapidoth, propped against one sword, the other a few feet away, rose to his feet. The malicious laugh of the overseer, whip ready to strike. Promptly responding the mocking guffaw, Lapidoth attacked the demon in a primordial rage, slashing and eventually thrusting into the creature's belly.  
  
The beast looked at him, stunned. The barbarian merely smirked as he drew the blade from the gut. Flailing its arms in a turmoiled anger, its skin peeled off layers at time, eventually molting into a puddling of pale green, bones to freeze in the arctic air.  
  
Waving his hand, Lapidoth singled that he was all right. Tirzah smiled and sighed, relieved, but was soon struck into a panic again. As the badly injured barbarian reached down to retrieve his sword, a remaining minion rushed him with a horrifying roar. It's back was pulsing with a deadly pressure, colors glowing a bright and deadly red.   
  
Lapidoth turned too late to fend off the suicidal monster. As he closed his eyes to meet his maker, a flash of light blazed through the air. It passed through the beast like water, causing it to burst harmlessly, though it did soil Lapidoth's nice, shiny armor. He snorted as Tirzah turned to look at the source of the life-saving spell. She had already determined it to be a necromancer, both from the way the magic worked and the shape of the caster.  
  
He donned decent chain mail, the color of the metal was enchanted with a dark magic. A demon skull was set upon his own neatly, the eyes not every visible through the hollow holes in the helm. Lips were sighted underneath the opening, the two of them pursed into a thin smirk. Tirzah's eyes narrowed, trying to recognize such a grin. He took a step forward, followed up into a slow and regal walk. Lapidoth watched the figure cautiously, both swords in hand now.  
  
"You two should really be more careful. Especially you, Lapi," he spoke in a low and seasoned tone. A gloved hand reached up to remove the helm, tucking it beneath an arm.  
  
Tirzah's lips curled into an ecstatic smile, "Alerrath, it's been too long."  
  
====There, party member three out of 5. Alerrath big, buff necro. Hehe.==== 


	3. Frosted Plains: Ingression

====Diablo 2 and Lord of Destruction (and all character classes) do not belong to me.====  
  
The elder man nodded. "I thought you decided to work with that...doctor, Alkor," Lapidoth snorted. His voice was anything but amiable, reflecting both fear and arrogance.  
  
Alerrath shook his head. He looked to the barbarian cooly, deep umber eyes glinting with age-old wisdom and a great respect. Tirzah knew very well what it was like to be him. Each were shunned for their chosen positions in life. Many questions Alerrath's motives, and others accused Tirzah for being a spiteful female.   
  
She looked over Alerrath's form, his chain mail wrapped about his figure loosely, revealing the padding beneath. He was a thin man, not large of height nor stature, but his necromactic magicks were to be reckoned with. His boots were tinted with blood, as were his gloves. Long locks of a burmal gray whipped about in the violent turbulance of the wind. The sun highlighted lighter strands to a brilliant white, along with his already pale skin. "Nay, the alchemist never held my interest," the necromancer turned to Tirzah, "I went in search of greater challenges, but when I had heard that Diablo was already defeated..."  
  
Tirzah blushed every so slightly, "How long did it take you to convince Tyrael that you were of the light?"  
  
Alerrath sighed and shook his head once more, "A bit longer than was comfortable. No matter, I'm here, aren't I?"  
  
Lapidoth smirked, though only Tirzah noticed. "Very well, then. Alerrath, come along. We have not much time to lose."  
  
Huffing quietly to herself, Tirzah took up her staff once more and walked over to meet Lapidoth, taking next to him. Alerrath replaced the helm upon his head again and strolled after them.   
  
The barbarian seemed very intent on reaching the summit in time, slaughtering everything in his path. Every once in awhile, Tirzah or Alerrath would aid him with a projectile, though Lapidoth would give the necromancer a fierce glare everytime he helped. Alerrath seemed unphased by the unfriendly warrior, but still wanted to earn the barbarian's friendship.  
  
Tirzah looked over her shoulder at the mage every so often, just to check that nothing had become of him. He was always so silent, somber; indeed, it frightened her at times. He seldom cried out, though his pleas for help were heard loud and clear when he needed it.   
  
The party walked on. Each member's eyes were locked on the landscape, scanning for any threat. None of them had suffered major injuries, thanks to health potions. Tirzah was mentally exhausted, though she did not show it, but merely downed a mana potion. Alerrath's gaze scryed the area. "Over there, a way point," he pointed a gloved finger in the distance.  
  
Lapidoth ran forward and nodded to Tirzah. She followed quickly and knelt down beside a stone. Brushing a hand along the symbols inscribed upon the stone slab, she peered over in Lapidoth's direction, "You know what to do."  
  
The barbarian chuckled and kicked over one of the smaller stones, marking the corners. In a few sparks and crackles, mystic blue flames sprang to life. For once, Lapidoth looked to Alerrath in a more friendly manner, "Should we head back to town, or continue along our merry way?"  
  
The old man's eyes brightened at the amiable tone of the normally gruffed Lapidoth, "Let us carry on."  
  
Lapidoth nodded while Tirzah merely smiled at the seemingly forming friendship between the two. Once more, the group was on the move again. They trampled through the brushes, silent, until they finally approached the gaping mouth of a cave. It was rimmed with a thick layer of ice, large spears of icicles hanging low on the weakening frame of wood. The tattered doorway seemed to be barely holding the entrance up. The iced over stairs were not in the least comforting.   
  
The day was fading into night. The sun returning into its celestial bed. Tirzah gazed upwards, catching the first glimpse of sunset. "'Tis growing dark," she stated.  
  
Lapidoth peeked down the stairwell, "Aye, perhaps we should go back to Harrogath and wait til dawn."  
  
Alerrath poked his head into the available space in the door frame, "'Tis so, but it is no different in a cave in night than one in day."  
  
The muscled warrior looked down at the shorter, frailer man, "Maybe, but we do not want to emerge from the cave in the middle of the night either."  
  
"If you insist. Back to camp we go," Alerrath said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"You two, always bickering like two hens," Tirzah grumbled, head shaking, "Except you have magic and large, fearsome swords."  
  
Both men grunted, trying to intimidate each other. The sorceress sighed, dark hair flailing in the wind. She pulled out a scroll and read the incantation quickly. A blue ring parted the air; inside, there was a magic rift between the areas, connecting one with the another. "Everyone, proceed," Tirzah motioned to the pair and hopped in herself, as if the previous action was not enough. 


	4. Harrogath: Familiarity

====Diablo 2 and Lord of Destruction (and all character classes) do not belong to me.====  
  
Lacalya snarled and glared at the old man. Nihlathak, Harrogath's only remaining clan elder sneered back with equal malice, "You gamble poorly, assasin."  
  
Lacalya leaned back, one hand reaching back to wrap around the handle of one of her war fists. Deciding that shedding blood in town was the not the best idea, the hand slipped slyly to her hip; she would deal with him later. "I think this entire little 'gambling stand' is rigged."  
  
Nihlathak snorted indignantly, "It's not, I assure you." He turned around and rummaged through a chest. Turning around once more, he held up a finely crafted coronet, "Ah, how about this? I'm quite sure it is bound to be something of value."  
  
The assasin narrowed her eyes. Alas, she could not resist it: just the notion of obtaining a coronet possessing one of the more legendary powers was worth the risk...and, at fifty-thousand gold, how could she lose? Tossing up a bundle of gold, a winning smile across her lips, she took up her half of the exchange. The elder returned the smile and did an about-face, packing up all the rest of the items.  
  
Lacalya placed the coronet upon her head, and sauntered over to Deckard Cain, the last of the Horadrim. "Identify it, please."  
  
Cain frowned, taking the ornament in his hands...and that was what it turned out to be, a useless ornament.  
  
Upon hearing this news, Lacalya fumed with white-hot rage. Marching over to where the old man normally boiled his grub, thoroughly intent on making sure that he was BARELY the only-remaining clan elder.   
  
After covering half the distance with amazing speed, the assasin stopped short of just running into a large, muscled figure. Snarling, she bared her teeth and snapped, "Watch where you are you going, clumsy o--" her sentence was cut off midway as she realized just who she was talking to.  
  
"Lacalya, it has been a while," the husky voice said, a hint of mirth in the statement.  
  
Snorting, Lacalya assumed a nonchalant stance, watching the barbarian move out of the way to make room for the necromancer and a scantily-clad dressed sorceress to proceed through the portal. "It has, has it not?" Hazel eyes watched the magic-wielding pair intently, "Obviously, packing proper clothes was not in the idea box, was it, Tirzah?"  
  
The sorceress cast a glare at the assasin, though it was obvious that both were equally amused. "No, I cannot say much for your choice of wear either, Lacalya."  
  
The assasin smirked and looked behind the newcomers' shoulders at the warrior leaning primly against the door frame. "The healer says the potions are priced at 250 gold pieces each. Would you say that is a good deal?" The amazon's voice was silky, a gentle croon. Ice blue eyes examined the backs of the others before going back to Lacalya's.  
  
Lacalya shrugged, "She needs the money, Elytaine. And we are all for the same cause," a murderous glance to the necromancer, "Isn't that right, Alerrath?"  
  
The necromancer grunted, "I am surprised you remember my name." The bone helm was removed from his face, one silvery eyebrow raised, "Why must you always suspect me of not being completely good, hmn?"  
  
Lapidoth coughed. Tirzah shifted stance. Elytaine cast a casual glance to the healing rooms. Lacalya knew better than to answer that.  
  
Grinning in triumph, Alerrath nodded, "Yes, I am for the same cause, my dear."  
  
Tirzah made an impatient grunt, "So, what are we doing now? I thought we were going to pick up a few supplies and wait 'til morning to explore the cave."  
  
Lacalya leaned back on her heeled, laughing, "'Explore'? My dear sorceress, if there is anything to explore, it would be the dead barbarians littered over the icy grounds."  
  
A flash of rage glazed over Lapidoth's eyes, a temper tightly leashed. Lacalya chose to ignore it and continued, "Why wait for morning? By the time we get out of the cave, it will be nightfall."  
  
Alerrath grumbled at Tirzah, "That is what I was trying to tell you."  
  
Tirzah pretended not to hear, "Well, if that is the case, we will pick up a few supplies, then head back." She cast a thoughtful gaze around, "Are we missing a few people?"  
  
Lacalya raked a gloved hand through her hair, "I saw a paladin. It's hard to miss them when their armor just RADIATES with holy light. We was with a druid, the men of the wood."  
  
Alerrath swallowed, "A druid, hm?"  
  
The assasin nodded. Tirzah broke the awkward silence, "I will go...talk with Larzuk," and scurried off.  
  
Snapping to attention, Lapidoth said rather stiffly, "Me, too," and followed close to Tirzah.  
  
Elytaine rolled her eyes and slipped back into the healing rooms: leaving Lacalya and Alerrath. "So, what about this...druid?"   
  
Laughing, Lacalya threw an arm around the necromancer's neck, ableit gently, "He is a pleasant fellow. Reserved." She gave him a sultry smile, "We have a lot to talk about."  
  
(The intros are almost over!) 


End file.
